The Market Place
by lederra
Summary: A look at an incident from Loki and Thor's childhood, at how the two princes are treated differently by the nobility and the common people of Asgard. It will be a rather dark story and might not be suitable for all to read. I am rating it as T for the moment but might change it M as the story proceeds.


The Market Place

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters from the Thor universe; they are the sole property of their creator and as such make no money from this or any other story that I write for this site.

Summary: A look at a time or two at a time from Loki's childhood. Might be a little AU!

XxX

Dusk came late to the market and with it a slight wind and in the distance the sound of a single clap of thunder, causing those who were packing up to look to the palace wearily, it was never good to hear the sound of thunder when there was no clouds in the sky, or when they had yet to pack up what was left of their wares.

Their beloved crown prince no doubt was having another temper tantrum and there was little that the everyday people of Asgard could but pray that his tantrum would be small and not cause so much rain as the last one had.

At least they thought to themselves, the second prince does not cause so much destruction when he threw a tantrum, not that the lad ever did and to the ordinary folk of Asgard he was held in more regard than his elder brother, for unlike Thor and the rest of the nobility, he did not look down on them in quite the same way, with the same disdain that those of power did, and often could be found amongst the normal population especially on market day.

At first the boy had always shifted to another form so he could roam unattended and free amongst the stalls until the day it had been realised who he was and after that the young prince did not bother hiding who he was, as there were none amongst them who would do any real harm to him, unlike amongst the nobles who had no time at all for the younger prince.

The stall holders continued to pack up their wares, but now with a degree of haste as none of them wished to be caught in the probable down pour that was heading their way, the fruit and vegetables not yet sold being gathered into baskets and placed onto hand wagons, the butchers gathering up what meat that had not gone bad and they could sell the next day.

Woven baskets of oysters and fish, their smell permeating in the evening air as they too were placed onto the wagons along with battered hardware and cheap furs and linens. The stall holders downed the last dregs of their drinks, their ale or mead if they had been lucky enough to have it before they pulled tarpaulins over their wares and with a last farewell to their fellow traders began to make their long journey's home.

Near the back of the market, where that which was discarded as unfit for sale the next day, a lone figure, stood watching those who came out of the shadows to see what they could salvage from that which was dumped, despite the glistening mass of maggots that slithered out of the discarded soft flesh of the meat.

The first of the scavengers were former warriors, young men and old who no longer were of use to Asgard, dragging useless limbs, crawling in some cases on their hands, up to the dumped offerings and then delving their hands in to see what sustenance they could find.

Then women with their babies swaddled at their breasts in nothing more than rags, picking off the heads of the fish and gathering what shellfish there was, cockerels and a few oysters, pulling scraps of meat from bones.

Several thin and rheumy child came next, biting off the tops of vegetables such as carrots and parsnips and scavenging some to be taken and eaten later, licking at bones like a pack of hungry dogs, their feet slipping in the slightly muddy ground beneath where the last juice from the meat had gathered and pooled.

When at last these dregs of Asgard society had had their fill or found what they could they departed, all except one, an old woman, barring her rotten teeth at the pile, her tired eyes running over what was left, as she wandered around the edge of the dump, mad laughter escaping her cracked lips.

At first when she screamed no one took notice of her, for she screamed much and often, her madness always visible if only normally in her crackling laughter that was permanently on her lips, and only the stranger the shadow off to one side glanced up when her screams, started to become louder.

The men standing outside the tavern just down the street or sitting on the slightly crumbling wall to one side, talking about past battles and glory, the whores in the slightly tattered and washed out dyed dresses that were little more than rags, who littered this part of the town waiting for customers to spend some of their coinage upon them or some of child scavengers that were still in the area, not yet departed for whatever hovel they lived in and who were fighting over whatever spoils they had scavenged from the pile dumped, still ignored the old woman's screams until they got even louder, so loud enough it seemed that even the nobles in the palace would hear her.

The sound of her screams hurtling and echoing over the area that finally the people began to notice her, the children looking up from the recent scrabble, the whores glancing, the men finally stopping in their useless chatter to look at last, at whatever had the mad old woman screaming her lungs out.

Soon guards came who normally never gave a thought to the dregs of society that inhabited this part of the city, guards dressed in long cloaks and looking more respectable than most seen in these parts.

They stare at the woman who was now sat on the ground, her screams still heard and they saw the blood surrounding her, and for a moment they thought that she was the one the blood came from but as their eyes travelled the ground around her they became aware of what it was that had set her off.

Behind her in the disturbed dump lies a body of a young child, the rags that made up its clothing in ragged ribbons surrounding the body, stab marks litter what is left of the corpse and they cannot see if it is male or female, the remaining skin gashed and torn. The arms and legs have been bent and broken, in places the bones sticking out of the flesh and making what remained look like a grotesque manikin, it's pale golden hair spilling outwards around the head, as if a halo.

Several of those who peer at the body suddenly turn away as they lose the contents of their stomachs, the women who have crept forward to see what had the old woman screaming, start to scream themselves at the sight before them and the stranger hidden in the shadows moves away so none can see them hiding there, removing themselves from the scene as more and more people descend into the market place as word of what had been found begins to spread.

XxX

Loki moved swiftly through the city, the young prince hated his brother Thor's idiot friends for the stupidity of their jokes upon him and the way in which they treated him and at that moment in time his brother Thor for his stupidity and indifference, in not seeing how his baby brother was generally treated by those he called friends.

He hates the warriors three and the lady Sif for the simpering attitude towards Thor always acting as though Thor is the intelligent one, the one that everyone should emulate to be, he feels the slipperiness of the cobbles as he moves even more swiftly away from the palace and the place of his most recent humiliation, heading past a pie shop, his face hidden in the cowl of his cloak so that none know it is he, four off duty guards whistling at him, thinking he was a female because of his lithe and not muscular form beneath his cloak.

He slips down into a side alley moving away from the watchful eyes of the guards and the milling crowd of people heading for the homes at the end of the day, he did not want to be amongst the crowds at that moment preferring instead the silence of the alley as he made his way towards a place of safety where he could be himself and not worry about decorum and etiquette as was expected amongst the elite of Asgard.

The bottom of his spine gives a twitch as a sharp pain radiates from it, the place where Fandrals practice sword caught him as they had sparred earlier in the day, the skin on his left hand smarting a little still, where Sif had cut it with one of his own daggers that she had managed to get away from him during their sparring session, he was certain she had forced the tip of it into his hand on purpose as she had crowed and sniggered along with the others in the training ground who had been close enough to see the second prince of Asgard bested by a mere girl.

Loki stalked past a few shops not yet closed at the end of the day, his eyes unseeing of the wares that were still pout, the shop keepers hoping perhaps to catch the last of the people before they headed home for the night.

The long cylinder bottles of the apothecary, glowing hues of blue, green and red, the ingredients inside unknown but to a few, Loki had regarded a number of times before and on even a few number of times had purchased, however, there were other apothecaries within the city that carried herbs of a finer quality than the ones found in this particular shop.

He ignores the chatter from the few people that are to be found in this alley, the young messenger boys going to and fro from which ever destination their lords and masters sent them, sometimes Loki stopped to chat with them but not today, today he had no interest in lingering and chattering with them, like mindless magpies that gathered after a storm.

His mind turns over the spite he is shown on regular occurrence by those of the court as he continues his way to his destination, the cut on his hand still smarting but he ignores it. He steps out of the alley into another and then moves towards one of the more used thoroughfares.

Pulling his cloak tighter around him, as he skirts a rather large puddle, not wishing to go through it, he turns into the main thoroughfare that heads towards the one place in the entire realm that he feels a sense of belonging, the main market place of Asgard.


End file.
